Scrimgeour swallowed the rest of his words.
Fudge finally remembered how to breathe.
He shoved the hat he was holding onto his head, not even bothering to straighten it, then turned to face Dumbledore, his lips moving as if he were organizing his thoughts.
At this moment, only one thing was on his mind:
If Black did this, the situation would be truly out of control; but if not Black, then who was it? Who else could it be on the Hogwarts field?
He turned to Dumbledore, opened his mouth, and said, " Albus, look at this thing..."
He didn't finish his sentence because Dumbledore's expression made him swallow the rest.
Dumbledore's face was filled with astonishment. His eyebrows were slightly raised, and his blue eyes behind his Half-moon Spectacles were still fixed on the storm. His lips were pursed and did not move.
Fudge's mind suddenly went blank.
He had taken it for granted that this was some kind of arrangement by Dumbledore. After all, Hogwarts was Dumbledore's territory, and who else but him could have orchestrated such a grand spectacle here?
But Dumbledore himself seemed completely clueless. So where did his calm and collected demeanor, as if he had everything under control, come from?
The image from earlier involuntarily resurfaced in Fudge's mind:
A silvery-white beam of light shot up from the forest, illuminating the entire sky. The Forbidden Forest was shrouded in shadows, and the darkness receded... everything seemed like a miracle.
Scrimgeour waited a few seconds, and seeing that Dumbledore and Fudge remained silent, he asked the question again, this time more specifically:
"Principal, my men can spread out on the perimeter, pushing the area outwards in concentric circles. If there's enemy activity inside, at least we can secure our retreat. What do you think?"
It seemed that only then did Dumbledore snap out of his reverie.
He turned his head to look at Scrimgeour, then at the Auror behind Scrimgeour who were clutching wands, and slowly shook his head.
"No need," he said calmly. "Just keep going."
Although his tone was calm, everyone could sense his confidence in his abilities from his words.
Dumbledore paused, then turned his gaze back towards the Forbidden Forest. The brightness of the storm had begun to decline, and the upper part of the silvery-white pillar of light was slowly dissipating, breaking into pieces of light that were blown upwards by the wind.
His tone was slower than before. "If it were the enemy, they would have taken action by now; since they haven't, then someone else is handling this. Let's go in and take a look."
Scrimgeour opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing more. He turned back and waved to the Auror behind him, who then raised their wands again, spreading their formation even wider than before.
Professor McGonagall released her grip on the doorframe and hurried after him, glancing sideways at Dumbledore as she passed by.
She had followed Dumbledore so many years and knew the old man's temperament all too well; he clearly had doubts.
The group walked along the stone path on the ground towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
After walking about a hundred steps, the silvery-white storm finally began to dissipate.
First, the light at the base of the pillar faded, and then the entire pillar of light seemed to have had something removed from its roots, collapsing from the bottom up.
Large flakes of silvery light fell down, landing on the broken branches of the shrubs.
The howling of the storm also pressed down, changing from the original muffled roar that connected heaven and earth to a whistling sound like a wind blowing through the forest. Finally, even that whistling sound subsided and dispersed into dozens of small whirlwinds swirling close to the ground.
Countless Dementor poured out of the forest, scattering in all directions as if caught off guard, like a pack of stray dogs.
Groups of gray-black cloaks darted outwards, skimming the ground. Some emerged from behind tree trunks, while others crawled directly out from under the tree canopy. Silvery-white glitter clung to the edges of the cloaks, falling as they ran.
As the Dementor surged outwards, they lost all their usual slow, leisurely gliding. Their cloaks billowed, and the leading ones even collided, tumbled, got up, and continued running.
Several Auror instinctively raised their wands, but Scrimgeour raised his hand and pressed down, stopping everyone in their tracks.
The Dementor surged past the group from about twenty paces away on either side and dispersed towards the north of the arena.
A few strayed off course and headed towards Black Lake, only turning back to rejoin the main group after running quite a distance.
In less than half a minute, the group had dwindled to just their tails. As the last few frantically brushed past the group, Fudge instinctively took a half-step back behind Dumbledore.
Once the last Dementor's cloak disappeared behind the corner of the northern wall, the edge of the Forbidden Forest fell silent once more.
Silvery-white shavings continued to fall, accumulating a thin layer on the grass blades, which were gently swirled by the remaining breeze.
Fudge turned around, his lips moved twice, but he couldn't think of what to say, so he turned to look at Dumbledore.
" Albus, this..."
Dumbledore didn't respond; he was looking at the storm-ravaged ground at the edge of the Forbidden Forest —broken branches, fallen leaves, flattened shrubs, and the still-falling fragments of light.
His blue eyes scanned the marks one by one, as if he were observing something.
Fudge waited a moment, and seeing that he didn't speak, he took over the conversation himself:
"Who did this? The Dementor are all running in one direction, which doesn't make sense; they never do that..."
"They're running," Scrimgeour continued, his voice steady. "Someone inside drove the Dementor out, and very thoroughly."
"This..." Fudge finally connected the two things, "Could it be the storm just now? Isn't it only the Patronus Charm that can drive away Dementor?"
Dumbledore finally turned his gaze away from the ground.
"I do have some suspicions," he said, his tone somewhat strange, "But we'll find out once we go in."
He finished speaking and took a step forward. The hem of his robe brushed against the scattered silvery-white light flakes on the ground, which gently rose at his feet and then fell back down.
Scrimgeour turned and gestured to the Auror, and the group dispersed again and advanced.
McGonagall and Sprout caught up with Dumbledore, Flitwick walked briskly to the side with his short legs, Snape lagged behind, his black eyes fixed on the messy ground at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as he walked forward step by step.
Fudge, sandwiched in the middle of the group, finally got his hat on properly.
As he walked, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his eyes constantly glancing towards the Forbidden Forest.
The beetle was now firmly perched on the fabric outside his collar, its wings tucked tightly in, as if it too had just been stunned.
The group walked along the stone path into the shadows of the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, their footsteps gradually swallowed up by the sound of the wind in the woods.